“Oh, ho!” replied Christian, “you are beginning to be uneasy, are you? What makes you suspect that there was any performance last evening?”
“I know there was one, and that I took no part in it.”
“Are you quite sure?”
“I was a little drunk,” said Puffo, raising his voice, “I confess; but I have heard the truth to-day, and I know all about it.”
“The truth,” said Christian, laughing; “would not one say that I had concealed it from your excellency? I have not seen you to-day, Signor Puffo, and even if I had, I am not aware that I owe you an account—”
“I want to know who took the liberty of touching my marionettes?”
“Your marionettes, which belong to me, though you seem to forget it, will tell you, perhaps; ask them.”
“I don’t need to question them to know that some one or other took the liberty of replacing me, and, apparently, of earning my wages.”
“Suppose it were so? were you in condition to say a single word last evening?”
“You ought, at least, to have tried me, or else to have given me warning.”